


Prompt 46: "Can I kiss you right now?"

by asexualizing (Specialcookies)



Series: Phrase Prompts [3]
Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, First Kiss, Music, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 20:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15803781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Specialcookies/pseuds/asexualizing
Summary: And that’s the worst thing about Debbie wanting to have Lou in some sort of way for ages now -- Lou shows every fucking sign of wanting the same thing. In little gestures which disregard personal space, in suggestive stares, in playing along with Debbie whenever she cannot help herself and flirts.Bad idea, Deborah,she reminds herself as Lou’s eyes drift briefly down to her lips.You practically live together.Lou and Debbie share a room in college. It hasn't been easy.





	Prompt 46: "Can I kiss you right now?"

**Author's Note:**

> for the anon who asked for this prompt! hope you enjoy this <3
> 
> The band whose CD Lou puts on is Divinyls and the song is [I Touch Myself](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wv-34w8kGPM), if you want the full effect you're welcome to play it along while reading the part in which it plays.
> 
> also as a side note, I don't really understand anything about medicine or studying medicine so I'm sorry if that part is completely like, ridiculous.

“Humerus,” Lou declares, still confident enough to immediately throw the ball back to Debbie, who is sitting, crossed legs on her own bed, the alphabetical list of bones in the human body in her lap, not even raising her eyes from it to catch Lou’s precise throw, nor to throw it back at here while saying: “Good. Next.”

Lou catches the ball with a loud thump, still not hesitant as she calls out: “Hyoid,” and hurls the ball back at Debbie.

“Good. Next.”

They keep at it smoothly up until the letter O, where Lou begins to groan in frustration. It’s an improvement from L, that’s for sure. But Lou doesn’t like improving, she likes being perfect, and the alphabetical list of human bones is currently the only thing standing between her and perfection. Or, at least, that is what she keeps bemoaning to Debbie about.

“Come on,” Debbie looks up at her, aiming for encouraging instead of what she actually feels, which is closer to a deep despair of the human body. “You know this one.”

Lou groans even louder and throws her head back against the wall, squeezing and releasing the ball.

“What about a muscle memory method of remembering them? I can break someone’s bones while naming them.”

“That's not muscle memory, that’s just your violent urges.”

Lou throws the ball at her without naming another bone.

Debbie lowers it on her bed and lays the list aside, as well. “Food?” She asks carefully. It’s been far too many hours since they both ate, far too many hours since they left their room as well, but she isn’t certain that Lou’s gonna cooperate with anything that does not include naming bones at the moment.

“Maybe,” Lou sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. “This is awful.”

Debbie can’t argue with that. She gets up, walks over to Lou’s bed and grabs her arms. “Let’s freshen up,” she says, pulling at her roomate. “You should know your brain functions better when you feed energy into your body.”

Lou goes limp on the bed, almost taking Debbie down with her as she slides lower and lower. “We had about five cups of coffee, isn’t that enough energy?”

“Come _on_ ,” Debbie pulls harder, refusing to surrender. “We can get _actual_ food which you _like_ and not instant noodles today, okay?”

Lou groans again, rising a bit towards Debbie, but then slumping right back down. “Waste of time.”

“No, _this_ is a waste of time.”

It should be no surprise that as Debbie takes a moment to rest from trying to lift dead weight _off_ a bed, Lou takes advantage of her and gets her _on_ a bed. But Debbie’s still caught off guard, landing messily right atop Lou, who smiles at her like a child who managed to fool their parents.

When Debbie tries to push herself off, Lou wraps two arms around her, holding her at place. Debbie can’t help it if her heart beats faster, if her cheeks feel hotter, if what she suddenly wants is to stay right here, pressed against Lou, and not eat, but kiss her. Lou’s warm and she smells great and Debbie had her eye on the girl since the day they moved into their shared dormitory and Lou winked at her instead of shaking her hand, didn’t wither in response to Debbie’s sharp-tongued conversation starters (she was never, admittedly, great at meeting new people, but Lou actually seemed to enjoy responding to her), and plugged in her speakers to play some Sister Rosetta Tharpe. Except fucking your roomate seemed like the worst idea she ever had. Ever. 

She breathes in and tries not to look Lou in the eyes, lets the air out of her lungs in a rush that she veils under exasperation.

“Insufferable,” she mumbles.

Lou releases an indignant sound. “You _never_ say that when I help you with that cognitive neuroscience shit of yours.”

“No, I do, constantly.”

Lou lets her arms slide slowly off Debbie, who at this point simply rolls off Lou to sit beside her on the bed. She straightens up with her back against the wall, looks at Lou, who is still smiling that smug way of hers, still lying down, looking up at Debbie, her hand almost touching Debbie’s thigh. “Ungrateful,” Lou says, quiet, gentle. “You are un-grate-ful.”

Her eyes are shining in a way that Debbie is familiar with, the same way they always do when she jokingly admonishes Debbie for being something which she is very clearly not, like there is something deep behind that statement that actually means the opposite of it.

And that’s the worst thing about Debbie wanting to have Lou in some sort of way for ages now -- Lou shows every fucking sign of wanting the same thing. In little gestures which disregard personal space, in suggestive stares, in playing along with Debbie whenever she cannot help herself and flirts. _Bad idea, Deborah_ , she reminds herself as Lou’s eyes drift briefly down to her lips. _You practically live together._

They have both gone very quiet.

“Lou,” Debbie finally says, and if her voice cracks just a little as her throat is dry, she pretends it didn’t happen. “Food.”

Lou sighs so dramatically she might as well be in the theatre program. “Fine.” She agrees with one last glance at Debbie’s lips, gets swiftly up and off the bed. She stretches her limbs, and her Ramones t-shirt rides up her torso to reveal an expanse of skin which Debbie would love to feel under her fingertips. Maybe tongue. 

_Yeah, no._

“But I won’t have your fingers poking in my plate,” Lou adds.

“Sharing is caring, honey.” Debbie finally manages to get up (how the fuck does Lou even sleep on this mattress) and walks over to don her jacket.

“No hard feelings, baby, but I think we share enough as it is.”

Turning to face Lou, Debbie recognizes the expression on her face. She looks down at Lou’s pants, examining them more closely, and rolls her eyes. “ _Ask first_ ,” she chastises with no real feeling behind it. She really couldn’t care less what Lou borrows out of her closet.

“Very convincing,” Lou laughs, light and endearing. “Come on, Ocean,” she strides to the door, opens it. “Let’s get this brain of yours some energy.”

“It was Occipital, by the way” Debbie says as she shuts the door behind her. Lou sighs heavily, following Debbie as she walks away.

***

To say she doesn’t constantly fantasize about Lou would be a blatant lie, and she would deny it if anyone were to ask, but what’s the point of not letting herself indulge when she tried so many times to force it out of her mind unsuccessfully. It’s not shame that grips her afterwards, nor is it regret; it’s something much hollower -- a missed opportunity, perhaps.

But Debbie doesn’t know how Lou would react if she were to actually try something, same way she doesn’t know how she will react if Lou ever actually tried something. There’s safety in the type of relationship they have developed, and Debbie knows there isn’t much safety anywhere else in this world.

At least, that’s what Danny’s always trying to teach her. The only thing her father really taught her. And she thinks Lou knows this, as well.

She loves trusting Lou, she loves knowing Lou’s not going anywhere, and she loves that she feels comfortable with Lou. There’s no point in putting all of this on the line for a fuck.

So she keeps it to fantasies, keeps those to herself, and pretends there is nothing unusual about Lou kissing the top of her head after they finish a study session and go to sleep in their respective beds.

***

It’s spring break when it happens. Debbie was supposed to go home in the morning, but Danny said, last-minute, that if she wants to avoid Dad she can wait two days because, apparently, then he’s off to God knows where and they’ll have the house all to themselves. Naturally, Debbie did.

Lou said her goodbyes while Debbie was packing yesterday, and had spent the day at the library; Debbie didn’t have the energy to go there, so she spent the day playing The Joshua Tree on Lou’s speakers and reading her required essays in her pajamas.

It’s well past midnight now, and Debbie’s half asleep in a completely dark room, assuming Lou’s out drinking herself out of remembering how Latin works, when the door rattles open and shut, and Debbie’s about to grumpily ask Lou to quiet down when she hears another voice.

“You sure she’s out?”

“Hmm, back home for the break,” Lou answers it, then there’s the wet noises of a kiss, and Debbie’s terrified to even breathe. She holds herself completely still.

It’s kissing, which turns more heated to judge by the loud panting that accompanies it, and then it’s a low moan, a sigh, and Debbie _can’t_ breathe.

It’s stumbling, messy and frantic and it’s a miracle that they don’t trip over the suitcase Debbie left wide open on the floor, then it’s rustling sheets and Lou cursing and Debbie bites her lip, shuts her eyes, doesn’t know how to handle this. Because she _should_ make it clear that she is here, but her heart is thumping so violently that she is incapable of uttering a single word, and she’s scared to try, scared to let Lou hear what her voice would most certainly betray.

It’s like thunder in Debbie’s ears, an absolute dissonance of the eerie silence from moments before it -- the way Lou rasps: “I want your fingers inside me,” the way the other girl hums approvingly -- Debbie can hear every single movement they make and her stomach is coiled, burning, her whole body is on fire and she has to bite on her blanket to not let herself be accidently known in the most embarrassing way when Lou lets out a high-pitched, verging on desperate noise.

Debbie tries to calm herself down enough to pretend she was awoken from a deep sleep right at this moment, knows she can’t let this happen, knows she would never be able to face Lou if she let this happen, which she will have to, in the morning, and as enticing as Lou currently sounds to her, she can’t.

_Here we go._

“What the _fuck?_ ”

There’s a heavy silence, stillness to the air, before anything else. Debbie’s heart’s still hammering on.

“Deb?” Lou asks slowly; confused, breathless, probably more than a bit self-conscious.

“Yeah, hi, thanks for the wild reveille.”

She has no idea how the fuck she’s pulling this off, and maybe it’s just because Lou’s half gone herself, but Lou clears her throat awkwardly, and there’s a bit of a hustle as she and the other girl, who did not let out a single beep since Debbie let herself be known, probably make themselves decent.

“Sorry,” Lou eventually says, swallows audibly. “I thought you were…”

“In two days. Then you can fuck. Can I go back to sleep?”

“Yeah, um… Yeah, we’ll -- yeah.”

They say nothing else. It’s not long before the door is open and shut, quick and much quieter than their grand entrance, and Debbie listens for a few seconds more before she’s certain Lou left her alone in the room.

The tension in her body slowly seeps out, breath after breath, fingers squeezing and releasing the blanket. Debbie turns to lie on her back. Her ears are ringing with a single high-pitched, verging on desperate noise.

***

She doesn’t see Lou before she leaves. 

She doesn’t speak to Lou throughout the whole of spring break. 

She thinks of Lou, though. 

She thinks of Lou throughout the whole of spring break.

She thinks of Lou when a boy named Tyler fucks her in his father’s car, and when she goes down on a girl named Lauren near the tree she and Danny etched their names to, and she thinks of Lou when she meets up with Tammy to catch up, and Tammy instantly sees through her, and tells her to stop fucking thinking about fucking her roommate, _because, Deborah, you know how this will end._

“I’m not,” she insists defensively, but it is futile to try and deceive Tammy.

Tammy rolls her eyes. “I know you. You don’t let things go easy.”

Debbie slumps down in her chair, playing with the spoon on the saucer in front of her. Around them, the diner is bustling. “I heard her _fuck_ , Tam-Tam,” she sighs, defeated.

Tammy chokes on her coffee. “I’m sorry, you what?”

“Heard her fuck. Almost.” Tammy glares at her in that way that means: _what are you playing at, Deborah Ocean?_ so Debbie groans and adds: “She didn’t know I was in the room. I stopped it. Shut up.”

Tammy still looks suspicious, but she lets it go. She drinks her strawberry milkshake way too loudly, then says: “You have to let it go.”

“Why?” Debbie demands. “We’ve fucked, we’re okay.”

“We spend most of the year apart. Thank God for that.”

Debbie inhales deeply, exhales, annoyed. Her leg is restless. “You’re right,” she says, then adds: “If I had to see you paying your parking tickets I would go nuts.”

She grins at Tammy. Tammy’s not amused.

***

They don’t talk about it. Lou seems content on acting as if nothing has happened, and Debbie plays along. It doesn’t matter that every kiss to the top of her head makes her feel on fire now, or that seeing Lou in her jeans makes her throat dry now, or that it’s becoming increasingly difficult to treat their flirting as banter and nothing more, or that whenever Lou stands too close Debbie needs to grit her teeth as to not act on her body’s instincts.

None of it matters because if Lou’s content on acting as if nothing has happened, Debbie’s not gonna be the one to risk it. Debbie’s not gonna be the one to make a fool out of herself.

“How was the break?” Lou drawls in the accent that Debbie finds almost irresistible. 

“Not bad,” she shrugs in return.

 _How was the sex?_

She doesn’t ask.

***

Exams go by with very little interaction, which Debbie should be grateful for, but on the other hand, it’s wrong what they say -- the more distant Lou is, the more Debbie thinks about her.

The more distant Lou is, the more difficult it is to not imagine.

***

On the day of their her last exam, Debbie comes into their room to find Lou putting a CD in their (well, really, _hers_. But so much of their stuff had become shared now, Debbie really can’t say they don’t co-own everything in this room) sound system. As Debbie closes the door behind her, Lou turns to her with a shit eating grin on her face, and says: “Got myself a _good-job-on-not-failing_ gift.”

Debbie sheds her bag off her shoulders, slumps down on her bed. “So you didn’t fail, huh?” she asks with a grin of her own. Lou had her last exam last week, and she informed Debbie of her _unbelievable_ success any chance she got. Debbie didn’t actually mind, but she liked teasing Lou about it, because it got Lou to be even more obnoxiously happy.

“Flying colors, Debs. Flying colors,” she says and presses play.

Debbie’s mind is still clearing itself, her muscles are still stiff from sitting in the exam room for too long, she still can’t comprehend the concept of vacation. She’s tired, and listening to Lou’s music sounds like a perfect way to spend her time.

Listening to Lou’s music while Lou’s sitting pressed against her side on her bed, though…

“Who’s this?” she asks, hoping her voice isn’t cracking as Lou’s fingers play with the rings on hers.

“Australians,” Lou replies, but doesn’t elaborate. She throws her head back with a dreamy smile, closes her eyes, and moves her lips along the words which Debbie doesn’t know.

Debbie can’t help but stare at her, completely mesmerized, unable to pay attention to the music.

As the first song dies out, Debbie feels her breathing picking up pace. She swallows, but Lou’s oblivious -- she seems as if the concept of vacation has already shaped itself inside her mind, taken on a complete form, and this is her perfect idea of it.

Lou’s fingers are still absentmindedly playing with Debbie’s rings, thumb occasionally swiping over the back of Debbie’s hand, and it’s summer, and their room is stifling, and Debbie can’t stop thinking, but then Lou’s voice, quiet and beautiful, sings.

And it all turns worse, because Debbie cannot _not_ pay attention to the words that Lou springs out into the air with pure joy:

_I close my eyes and see you before me_

_Think I would die if you were to ignore me_

_A fool can see just how much I adore you_

_I’d get down on my knees I’d do anything for you_

Debbie is sure that Lou would have heard her heart hammering if the music wasn’t as loud as it is. She’s thankful that she seems to be completely in her own world, and that the points of contact she has with Debbie seem to be secondary to that world.

She can’t move, however much she wants to. She crosses her legs in an attempt to not shift too much and disturb Lou, but everytime Lou’s thumb swipes over the back of her hand, Debbie needs to bite the inside of her cheek to not make a sound.

_I don’t want anybody else, when I think about you I touch myself…_

Inevitably, she fails. Lou’s blunt fingernail scraps over the point between her thumb and forefinger, and Debbie can’t contain the sigh that slips out, too heavy for her to pretend it was anything but what it is.

She clamps her mouth shut, sholds herself still. Lou opens her eyes slowly, looks over to her, stops singing, but the song doesn’t stop along with her, and Debbie is very much aware that she is flushed, that she is breathless, that she is on the verge just like _that_. 

“Deb,” Lou stretches her name out, carefully, almost a question, her eyes intent on Debbie’s, then sliding down over her lips.

“Lou,” Debbie replies, more air than sound.

And just like that, Lou’s on top of her; her thighs are farming Debbie’s waist, her hands come to rest on her shoulders. Her fringe falls in her eyes but she doesn’t bother moving it.

Debbie brings her hands up to Lou’s waist hesitantly, not sure this is actually happening, or what is actually happening.

They stare at each other for long moments, Debbie slowly rubbing up and down Lou’s sides, Lou’s hands sliding up to Debbie’s neck. And then -- 

“Can I kiss you right now?” Lou asks, something urgent in her tone.

Debbie nods, not sure if she’s saying what she thinks she does, but it’s enough, because Lou bends, plants a chaste kiss to Debbie’s lips, and Debbie sighs the same way she did before, pressing her mouth harder against Lou’s.

“Shit,” Lou breathes, deepening the kiss.

Debbie can’t do anything but kiss her, let her hands roam over her back, squirm under her. They slump lower and lower until Debbie’s lying on her back with Lou flush against her, her knee slipping between Debbie’s thighs. Debbie gasps, arching her back slightly, then turns her head sideways, says: “Stop, stop. Lou, stop.”

Lou freezes. “Sorry, was I -- “ she begins, moves to get off Debbie, but Debbie grabs her by the collar of her shirt.

“No, just…” she trails off, takes a deep breath. Lou has already relaxed above her. “This isn’t a good idea, is it?”

Debbie doesn’t know what she expected, but she certainly didn’t expect Lou to laugh breathlessly, say: “Screw that, it’s a great idea.”

Debbie pulls her again into a slower, gentler kiss. Their bodies move together, matched. “It’s gonna ruin us,” she murmurs against Lou’s lips, threading her fingers through Lou’s hair, pulling gently and making Lou’s eyes fall shut.

Lou runs her hand up Debbie’s chest, stops with a thumb to Debbie’s lips. “Deb,” she says very seriously. “It can’t.”

Then she brings her mouth to Debbie’s neck, and Debbie doesn’t want to argue anymore.

***

“You know what’s great?” Lou asks after, cuddled on Debbie’s bed in an uncomfortable way. Debbie doesn’t mind. Lou’s fingers are drawing shapes over her stomach, and she’s more relaxed than she had been in ages now.

“Hm?”

“We don’t need to worry about our roommate walking in on us.”

Debbie laughs, pinches Lou’s side.

( _“How long have you been thinking about me?”_ Lou growled in her ear. Debbie shuddered, couldn’t answer. _“How many times have I gotten you off?”_

 _I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t thinking about you,_ Debbie wanted to say, but found other things to do with her mouth instead.)

“You are such a pragmatic ass.”

**Author's Note:**

> i am also on [tumblr!](https://straperine.tumblr.com/) if you want me.


End file.
